


Calling, With A Dead Voice

by Itachi_S_Lucius



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addict Sam Winchester, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sam Winchester, Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Possessive Dean Winchester, Pre-Slash, Protective Dean Winchester, Sonny's Home For Boys, Wrestler Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 12:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2652671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itachi_S_Lucius/pseuds/Itachi_S_Lucius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester, was taken in by Sonny for two years. However when Sam turns up at the house doorstep bloody and depressed. Dean's new world changes very quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester, was pronounced Heavy Weight wrestling champion on June 2nd 1995, having beaten a teenager at the age of seventeen at his own game, by a swift elbow to the gut, and a short clobbering session witch only lasted three minutes. Naturally the stands had lit up with either cheering or annoyed grunts from the friends of Andrew Latoski, who was KO’ed on the floor with a nasty gash in his lip.

 

Dean didn’t care much for them, however he took the prise, the cheering from the few friends he had managed to make, and from Sonny himself, who sat in the back his eyes alit with pride. Dean, saved that. When he went home that day, or what he was now beginning to call home, his ear started hurting, but as he was a Winchester he just shrug it off and continued with his home work that was rapidly beginning to pile, to Dean’s utter dismay. 

 

School, was relatively easy, though he did pay more attention to class now that he wasn’t switching schools every two weeks. His friend, a tall African-American by the name of Tucker Berderly, said that Dean was the ”Wonder Child” among them, because he was the only one of the trio that didn’t get a C- in all the subjects, except math. However Tucker didn’t call him a "Wonder child” to his face, no that would just be cause for further injury on his part. Dean didn’t mind the nickname, not really, but it wasn’t his favourite either, after all he had a reputation to keep up.

 

After a while Dean began his first steady relationship with a girl named Robin, whose father ran a diner downtown, and whose mother give guitar lessons to the boys staying at Sonny’s. Robin was a fairly slim girl, whose body wasn’t what you’d expect Dean Winchester to like, but as he rarely even referred to himself as a Winchester, he said it didn’t count for anything. 

 

Dean found that he was actually beginning to act like his age again, which terrified him ever so slightly at first, but he managed to convince himself it was a good thing in the end.

 

On the weekends, when Dean didn’t have any chores, Sonny would drop him off at a local cinema and he’d met his friends for a movie and a game of Basketball at the court across the street. Once and a while Robin would come and watch him play.  

 

It was early June of 1997 when it all went to hell. Dean had just gotten back from school, having just finished a history test which took two hours to complete, and a long bus ride, so he was pretty much ready to hit the hay. But there was familiar police car in the drive way, and Dean rolled his eyes in frustration. He wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon. As he walked inside, the annoying cops voice assaulted his ears.

 

“We just found em’ wondering round, with a’ bleeden’ arm, and a twisted up leg. Kid won’t even say is’ name. And we can’t get a hold of is’  guardian, ant’ picken’ up the phone.” 

 

“Well I have enough room to keep him here for a few days, until you can get hold of his parents.” Dean sighed, and wondered over to the kitchen to get something to eat. He could hear Sonny sitting down on the arm of his favourite arm chair, and ask the kid the same old routine questions.

 

“If your going to be living under this roof, no matter how long, I need to know your name kid.” A grunt, then a sigh, then a-

 

“Sam.” 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

Now there were many possible types of reactions Dean could have had, and for a brief moment he was reminded of his second day at the school in town were no one really cared for his bad boy attitude and Dean could have either pretended he was a smart ass like the rest of them, or simply be the way he always was, a total jerk. It was easy two guest which one he picked. But that's not important. At the moment no matter how much he wanted to go into complete denial, he just couldn’t. Because now, now he was a big brother again, and you can’t just abandon that, no matter what you do, or what happens in life.

 

Dean did not yet let himself react in any other way other then thinking. If Sam was here, it meant that dad was either on a hunting trip, or going ballistic searching for him. After all this had happened before; In some small town in Origen, Sam must have been what- six years old? Yeah around there, with a constant bed head, and a sleepy grin plastered on his face all the time. Dad had taken them to a local diner, somewhere cheep where the waitresses were in their late thirty and still wore the original clothes from when they'd started working. Dean and dad had been looking at the tattered menu when Sam, carrying his paper airplane, slipped right out of the booth and wondered outside. Dad hadn’t been happy, and had yelled at Sam until the tears running down his face had tears. Dean had been the one to rub his cheeks dry.

 

Now with all that thinking, He just wanted to see his brother. So with that in mind, he strapped on his big boy boots, just like he had the day he’d asked Robin to the school dance, and entered the living room. There Sam sat on the couch, his clothing completely black, and his head hung so that you couldn’t see his face. He hadn’t seen his brother in two years, so now, now he was going to be the best big brother he could, no matter what. But he wouldn’t be surprised if Sam didn’t recognise him, after all he had grown considerably, and now had a more masculine face.

 

So putting a firm hand on Sonny’s shoulder he gently pressed down, their own sort of way of telling each other that they wanted to try to get through to a kid. Kids were stubborn after all. And Dean knew Sam especially was, hell the kid could have been tortured and he still wouldn’t respond other then brief grunts of pain. Dean didn’t want to remember how he knew that.

 

“What. Happened?” Dean was refuring to the large gash on Sam’s arm, that was now covered by some rather sloppy first aid work, hell Bart-the-cop probably did it himself, and the swollen right ankle, that looked slightly twisted. Sam rose his head, but only slightly, just like when he was a kid and Dad was lecturing him.

 

“None of your business.” Sam looked down again.

 

To be completely honest Dean was rather proud that his brother wasn’t telling him anything, Sam had always been rather realuctient to let any one boss him around, but when push came to shove, he did what he was told to, and he used what he’d been taught.

 

“Werewolf?” This time when Sam looked up, he looked Dean straight in the eye and didn’t blink, not for a second anyway. Then, he shifted, and punched him square in the jaw with his injured arm. Then he hissed in pain. Ah, Dean smiled to himself, classic Sam.

 

“You son of a--” Dean cut him off with a swift movement of Sam’s own injured arm, and stared his brother down for a brief moment, before unravelling the cloth on his little brothers arm, and began his assessment.

 

He himself may use a colourful vocabulary, but he was not letting his saint of a brother use that sort of language, not on his watch anyway. His brother was giving him one of his best bitch faces, the one Dean liked to call; bitch face of doom, just because every once and a while he’d short disrespectful waitresses or waiters with it, and they’d literally scramble to another assigned table. It was actually quite funny to watch. But Dean, knew that right now it was best to try and cool the fire, at least until Sam was healed enough to punch him without hurting himself in the process.   

 

“Save it for later Sammy, we got to get you healed up first.” Sam despite his obvious anger for Dean at the moment, complied, which Dean was grateful for, he didn’t need a stubborn little brother glaring at him constantly.

 

Shifting of his perch on the floor, Dean carfully stood up, he was still holding his little brothers arm in his hand after all. Sam got the message, and followed him into the kitchen, with his arm still in Deans grip.

 

Sam sat on the counter, while Dean grabbed a cloth from the stove and wet it down. Neither said a word.

 

Dean found that he was working on auto pilot, and it strangely surprised him. He hadn’t been an older brother, well not a prober one anyway, for two years, so he was rather startled he still had it in him. As he thought this however, the guilt he should have been feeling for two years finally emerged.

 

He had abandoned Sam, left him with their ran-off father to fend for himself. Sam was twelve years old then, sure he could take care of himself for a short time, but Dean, took care of him. Sam probably didn’t even know how to make his own lunch, it wasn’t like dad would have done it.

 

But then again that, and many other things had always been Dean’s job.

 

Sam, didn't, never had liked when his arms were hurt, mostly because it was harder to hide from nosey classmates. But now, even when he was with Dean he still hissed as the water on the cloth touched his damaged skin.

 

That was when Sonny came in. But when he did, his immediate reaction was to comfort Sam, Dean didn’t like it, in fact he hated it. It was exactly like the time some smart ass kid had punched his brother in the gut, and then had the idiocy to stomp on his ribs, right outside dean’s classroom window. Sam had been ten. But now, now Sam was being comforted not hurt, and Dean though ever instinct told him to react, to protect his little brother, took the rains and allowed Sonny to begin cleaning the wound along with him.

 

Dean snapped when the friendly man had pet Sam’s head in reassurance, Sonny had immediately recoiled when Dean had attempted to sock him in the jaw, not surprising really, Sam though, no matter how long they had been apart, understood his brothers behaviour instantly, and offered the man a short, soft smile in understanding, and quickly stopped his brother from killing the older man with a quiet-

 

“Dean.” The eldest Winchester stopped snarling intently as he heard the soft command from his brother. And didn’t even spare Sonny a second glance as he began to once more clean his little brothers wounds.

 

Sam wasn't surprised, Dean had always been touchy when John himself had touched Sam’s wounds, or even attempted to touch them. The youngest Winchester supposed it was just some sort of big brother thing. And had allowed himself to adapt to it over time. John however never really did, and no matter how many times Sam would reject his help even after Dean had disappeared, he himself didn’t like anyone else but Dean -and sometimes Bobby- to dress his wounds. It took him five years to figure out it was a Dean and Sam thing, not a simple big brother thing.

 

Sonny had left once more, though Dean himself knew he wasn't fair away, well not far enough by hunter standers, but enough that he felt he could take care of Sam without any interruptions, but not without the older man hearing their conversation unfortunately, because there were some serious questions he need to ask Sam, and it wasn’t for normal peoples ears.  

 

the questions would have to wait till later then.

 

“Time for bed Sammy.” Sam groaned, the clock on the wall read 7:36.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam, had seen many things after his brother had disappeared, at first it was really nothing, just a regular haunt, like a sprit or some shit. Then there was a Wendigo, and finally a full grown werewolf. Normally he wouldn’t have been scared, but well, Dean hadn’t been with him that night. And his brother was his entire confidence really. That night, under the run out roof of an abandoned barn house in Wisconsin had changed Sam, and frankly not in a very good way. But he honestly didn’t know how to save himself.

 

That he had discovered, was a major problem when you are a hunter. Because he got in heavy, real heavy, to the point where the only thing that mattered was getting a fix, hell during those times he would have battled a demon, if it meant that he could just get high. It took him months to finally slow himself down, and get it out enough to be competent to actually hunt, or actually gamble again for money, because he had only been pickpocketing to get his fix, and a the little food he needed. The withdrawal was a bitch though. And Dean would have been hounding him for it, then again he wouldn’t have let Sam get so fixed on the drug in the first place. Hell Sam didn’t even know what the drug was, but he suspected heroin.

 

One part of the story that Sam didn’t want to remember, was the way he had never even said goodbye to dad, just left him there, at the Blue Swan in Origin. But to be honest it was far better that way. At least dad wouldn’t have woken up to him, wondering back into the hotel at god awful hours of the night, looking as high as could be. Though the nights he actually got a hotel, he could barely call his state “high” then again he had  built up an immunity to drugs by then, and had to take twice the amount to feel anything. It had taken awhile, but eventually he finaly managed to cool down and begin thinking on exactly what he was dong. Dean wouldn’t have been happy of his choices so far anyway.

 

He settled for a short time, maybe three, four weeks, in a cheep hotel room, that was completely trashed up, and only cost about twenty bucks a night to stay in. But that room alone was barely worth five a night, considering the state it was in. But Sam couldn’t find the time to care, to busy tracking werewolf hunts -because he noticed he was rather good with werewolfs-. Not to mention dealing with his drug addiction problem, that had spun out of control for the past few months. He was pretty sure that it was months, though he couldn’t be sure, its not like he kept track of when he started. All the spare time he had was spent pickpocketing, and though Sam loathed it, he had no choice, nobody was going to hustle pool with a fourteen year old, well except pedophilias and man, did he not want to go there.

 

The worst part of this hell ride, had been losing the picture of him and Dean, that he and his brother had taken in New Orland, Dean had been sixteen at the time, it had been taken only weeks before he had disappeared. And for countless nights after his brothers disappearance, he had often dreamt of Dean completely disappearing from the picture, fading like the light mist in the morning. And then just like that, the only part of Dean he had left was snatched away from him within seconds.

 

He had been hunting a Wendigo believe it or not, when a werewolf had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, its claws as sharp as a razor when they cut into the delicate flesh of his arm. And God, did it hurt. That somehow didn’t deter him however. Grabbing his pistol from the back of his jeans, pre-loaded with silver bullets, and had shot the son-of-a-bitch in the leg twice, before composing himself, and putting the beast of its misery by a quick close range shot to the head. From there he had set off South, and found himself a cheap motel room, in a low grade town, witch only had two schools, and a crappy electrical setup. He had wrapped his arm up in some cloth, but he would need bandages to make sure the wound didn’t get infected. So he had left the hotel room, his jacket badly stained with his own blood, when a cop car had pulled up beside him. He hadn’t even notice his ankle, and upper leg had been twisted, and possibly broken until the cop had mentioned it. He wasn’t surprised, werewolf claws could affect the very nerves of the skin they rip into. Hell he hadn’t even realized he had been limping until the cop had ordered him to get into the car.

 

From there they drove around thirty minutes out of town, to get to an old family house, with a man no older then forty at the balcony smoking a cigarette.


	4. Chapter 4

He was angsty. There was a Wendigo still out there, being a complete basterd, and he couldn't fricken hunt it because of his goddamn brother. Who of which didn't say shit about where he was going, or how he was doing, no contact for two years! To fucking years! And yeah he was pissed, because that meant he had to be the good son, he had to follow Dad's orders to a 'T' and that just isn't his style. So yeah he left, but he didn't even try for a normal life, because what was the point without Dean? Really what was the fucking point?   
He chewed on his lip and grunted into the night. He was restless. He wanted a hunt. Or a fix. One or the other. Or both. That was, from experience, not such a good idea.

  
That Sonny guy was hard work though. He'd have to find a work around. Dean was fast asleep in his cosey little bed, and he was outside figuring things out, they seemed to have switched roles because in any other situation it would be the opposite way round. Hell, Dean even wanted a normal apple-pie life. And wasn't that just a barrel of laughs?

  
Sam really wasn't sure how long he'd been out in the cold thinking the night away. But the sun was already up pretty high in the sky, and he could hear scuffling from inside the house. He was slightly numb in his legs, all pins and needles while he moved to get up.

None the less, he didn't utter a word as he entered the house. Dean was up and about which was really weird, Dean didn't get up this early, no way, no how, it was nine am, Dean didn't do nine am. Then again this Dean was different to the one he had known. So different in

So different in fact that as he had thought outside in the cold he had contemplated leaving again, he hadn't lingered on the thought for long. It was still his brother, and they had both changed, maybe not in all the ways that are better but they had, and he'd have to work with that.

  
At least for now, he couldn't stay in one place for too long, but his emotions were all over the place, and he really did want to be close to his brother again.   
The anger he had for the eighteen-year-old hadn't faded in the least.   
"What are you even doing here?" He questioned, and though he tried to keep his tone uncaring, it broke even, and something of a closed nature filtered through.   
Dean didn't even pause, he picked up an apple from the fridge took a bite and chewed with not a care in the world, Sam's patience was thin these days, and didn't care for his brother's lax nature.

  
"The kitchen, jee Sam I have no idea. Getting breakfast maybe?"   
"Cut the billshit, I meant here Dean, in this crap town, why are you here?!" His brother's posture abruptly stiffened, and though they had been apart for two years, Sam had known what that particular squaring of the shoulders meant, what the tilt of his head meant. He didn't give Dean the time to speak, his throat tightening painfully with realization, his eyes stinging a bit painfully.

  
"Oh, I see, you like it here don't you? You have a perfect little life here, don't you? Did you even miss us? Did you even consider that maybe we needed you?" He wasn't yelling, but his voice was cracking sharply as each question was spoken. He backed up a little, his back straightening, as he composed himself. "You know what, that's fine, that's just fine. You should stay, it's good for you. I should probably get going anyway. Nice seeing you Dean."   
He nodded in his brother's direction before opening the screen door behind him and stomping down the steps, he just could hear Dean following, through the ringing in his ears, but he paid his brother no attention.

  
"Sam wait, Sam. Sam!" His wrist was grabbed, and numbly he faced his brother, his expression set like marble. "Sam, look I'm sorry okay, but I have a good thing going here, a roof over my head, good food on the table. Good grades, friends, a girl. Sam, I'm sorry I didn't look for you and Dad okay. But I've got a good life here, and you could call up Dad and stay here, Sonny's got more then enough room Sammy, just please." His brother was looking at him almost franticly, and it was so pathetic, for a brief moment, Sam was sure this wasn't his brother in front of him.

  
He yanked his wrist free of his brother's hold, Dean didn't seem to be as strong as he used to be. All that lazing about like a normal teenager must have lead to that.   
Too him-Sam, this just wasn't his brother anymore, it was someone he couldn't reconigize, didn't want to even know or talk too. He barely even acted the same.   
"I have to go, I can't stay here man, I'm glad you got this Dean, but I can't live this life. Not anymore, I need- I need to go, and you-" He took a sharp breath in, "you need to forget about me Dean, about Dad, if you want to live this life Dean you're going to have to put it behind you, us, behind you. Become some asshole business man, or some big wig lawyer, I don't know. But I can't stay here. I can't live that life, maybe, maybe I would have, but not anymore. I'm in too deep, and I-"

 _I have to stop rambling, just go you coward, just fucking go!_ "-Look Dean, I need to get on the road okay? It was nice seeing you."

  
He backed away, giving this man he didn't recognize anymore a small, but sharp smile, and then he turned to the open road and lift.

  
He pretended he didn't hear the small hicup like sounds from behind him as he did so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it, I suppose I left it as a cliffhanger, but I think it works for the premise of this work. Anyway, I'll be glad to continue this in a sequel if anybody wants, so let me know. Thanks for reading!


End file.
